Gifts are wrapped and placed under the tree, but there are no names on the tags. / Staff photo by cindy Robinson

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The hunt begins in early fall, seeking a perfect, perhaps unexpected, item for the special people in my life.

Gifts are wrapped and placed under the tree, but there are no names on the tags. Instead, the boxes are labeled with some sort of code to keep family members guessing until Christmas morning. One year it was nouns and verbs; another, odd and even numbers.

The idea of labeling gifts with code originated with my parents when I was growing up. And even though this guessing game makes my kids crazy, I bet they can’t wait to continue that tradition with their own families someday.

When my children were little, holiday shopping was so easy. A creative toy or two, books, the latest Disney movie.

As they grew up, wish lists contained fewer toys and more requests for clothing and music and such.

Along the way, our holiday traditions included remembering those less fortunate: donating filled Christmas stockings as part of a school project, adopting a senior citizen or playing Santa to the child of a struggling single parent.

But the best gift we gave our children, year after year, was never anything bought and placed under the tree. The greatest gift of all was to be part of a loving family, a combination of tradition, support, unconditional love, of being there; learning to think of others first, before thinking of yourself. No assembly or batteries required.

Years later, I still love Christmas shopping for my children, now ages 20 and 23. But looking back, I honestly don’t remember what those “perfect” gifts were.

Yes, there was a dinosaur dig in a box, and a Tom Brady football jersey. But what I remember most is the joy and love of being with my family.

Early in the season last year, my son, a full-time college student with a big heart and extremely small budget, was thrilled to announce he’d found the perfect gift for the sister who has everything. It was a simple little book of poetry, written from a cat’s point of view, slightly naughty and full of attitude (well, what else would you expect from a cat?).

One of my favorite moments from that holiday morning is captured forever in a photo — my daughter, head thrown back and laughing heartily, and in the background, my son, grinning, pleased by his sister’s obvious delight.